


Coitus Interruptus

by Mina Lightstar (ukefied)



Category: Gintama
Genre: M/M, lack of TiVo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-16
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 16:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukefied/pseuds/Mina%20Lightstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okita’s fist is waiting for him behind his shoji; that feels more like a Tuesday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coitus Interruptus

**Author's Note:**

> For Lily/measuringlife. Fanbingo square: "Domesticity Freestyle: Day-in-the-life."

Hijikata Toshiro can’t remember if it’s Wednesday or Thursday. This is problematic, he figures, padding down the hall to his room. It’s a sign of how stressful the past week has been, if he can’t even remember how far along it is. He could have sworn it was Wednesday — he’s pretty sure Kondo reminded him it was Wednesday — but hell if it feels like a Wednesday.

Okita’s fist is waiting for him behind his shoji; that feels more like a Tuesday. He parries the blow with one hand and slides the door shut behind him with the other.

“You’re getting predictable,” he says, already bored.

“Am I?” Sougo smirks, shoving him precisely two steps to the left. Something in his eyes betrays him, so Toshi glances hastily about to find — well, shit.

He puts the full force of his weight into the dive, rolling and then sliding across the floor. He’s taken Sougo with him — why, he’s never sure. Or maybe he is. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to _think_ about it. Either way, Toshi and Sougo are now a tangled pile of limbs on the tatami. Their swords are trapped between them, still sheathed — can’t get to them. Behind them, Toshi hears the sharp _thunk!_ of metal lodging into wood, and after securing Sougo, chances a quick glance over his shoulder.

For most people, being ambushed by a colleague and a strategically-placed automatic crossbow might be a little overwhelming. For Toshi, it’s just Wednesday. Or maybe Tuesday.

The shaft is still quivering a little. Unfazed though he is, the logical part of Toshi’s brain knows that an arrow that size, that speed, would have been no contest. So he remarks, “That’s a thick shaft. Compensating for something?”

It’s juvenile, but it almost works. There’s anger behind the serene mask Okita wears, and he strains against Toshi’s hold for a second. Toshi doesn’t give him an inch, so Sougo stops struggling and waits. Bides his time.

They do this about once a week. The crossbow is new, though. Toshi shifts his hold, gripping a fistful of Okita’s scarf and using it to slam him against the floorboards. Sougo lets out a surprised “Ugh!” and Toshi’s other hand starts working on removing the younger man’s belt, putting some distance between the sadist and the sword.

“Was the crossbow your big finish?” Toshi asks, tossing the other man’s weapon away. “Are you done for the night?”

Sougo averts his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. “I only wanted some compensation.” Toshi’s already rolling his eyes, wanting a cigarette. “You haven’t acknowledged that you’re the father, and—”

“Get out of here,” Toshi snaps, releasing him and standing up. He turns away and folds his arms, looking for signs of other traps, but he knows it isn’t over, and he knows—

“You should take responsibility!” Okita shouts.

“Shouldn’t you be patrolling?” Toshi sighs, but it’s a lost cause; he can hear Sougo move. The wrestling match doesn’t last long; Sougo’s not trying hard enough. Not that it matters. Sougo’s one of the best swordsmen there is, but he’s never good enough for.…

Toshi wonders when everything got so fucked up.

“This is a waste of time,” he says, pinning a disheveled Sougo’s wrists above his head, sitting astride his hips.

“Is it?” Okita wonders, in a vague, bored tone that belies his flushed face and taut muscles.

“Che,” Toshi replies, because they don’t talk about things like that. He starts divesting Sougo of his uniform, shrugs out of his own jacket and bends down.

“Are you sure?” Sougo wonders idly. “This is how we got saddled with the b—mmph.”

“Shut up,” Toshi says without rancor, when they come up for air. Sougo takes off his belt for him, tossing it and the sword away. Toshi shrugs out of his shirt and shifts, worming his way between Sougo’s thighs so they can grind their hips together. The downside to sex with Okita is that he usually tries to murder you first. The _upside_ to sex with Okita is that he’s — usually — too tired to attempt murder afterwards.

“You aren’t very romantic, Hijikata-san.” Ha. This from the Prince of the fucking planet Sadistic. Toshi kisses him again — to keep him quiet, of course, and certainly not because of any complicated _feelings_ — and winces as short, rough nails dig into his back.

“It’s because you’re a terrible wife,” he shoots back, a belated retort. He speaks it directly into Sougo’s ear, glad the younger man can’t see his face — can’t see him wince when his erection strains against his trousers, rubbing against Okita’s.

Sougo snorts. “If I’m so terrible, we can stop right now. _Four-Legged P. I._ is on soon, anyway.”

Toshi freezes, mouth full of earlobe. “But it’s Wednesday?”

“It’s Thursday.” Toshi pulls back to look at him. Sougo raises an eyebrow. “You really are lost this week, huh?”

Toshi raises his head to glance at his TV; it’s off. Under his low table, crowded against one leg, are a fresh jar of mayonnaise for his ramen, a three-pack of condoms, a tube of lubricant, and the television remote. (They’re all instruments of self-defense.) He looks down at Sougo, then back at his survival kit, contemplating.

“We have a whole two minutes,” Sougo says. “Well, less now, but…”

“Aren’t they concluding the peppermint arc this week?” Damn their lack of a working VCR, anyway.

“Yeah.”

“Che.”

“Hmm.”

With nimble grace from years of training, they roll away from one another to sit cross-legged on the tatami. Sougo has grabbed the remote and is flipping to the channel _Four-Legged P. I._ is on. It’s just as well, Toshi figures. The more often you sleep with someone, the more chance there is of it becoming a _thing._ A thing with _feelings_.

And Sougo’s crazy, anyway.

His erection gone now, Toshi lights up a cigarette. _Close enough._

 

~End.


End file.
